


Fishing

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 15:18:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14311554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Noctis could use some money and relief. He finds an opportunity.





	Fishing

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Noctis is the son of a extremely wealthy businessman. However, he's a rebellious little shit, and fled/got kicked out as soon as he turned 18. A few years later, he's a starving college kid running low on money. Then he runs into his dad's worst business rival: Ardyn Izunia. Noctis talks him into a sugar daddy relationship. That way, they can screw his dad by screwing each other!” prompt on [the FFXV kinkmeme](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4747.html?thread=9482123#cmt9482123).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

All the phones in the window have the same movie stretched across their varying screens, but there’s only one or two that Noctis wants—the specs on _King’s Knight_ ’s new DLC are more grueling than ever, and few will run it fast enough to finally get the upper-hand on Prompto. He could, of course, just borrow Ignis’ for a round, but then he’d run the risk of a text from his father popping up mid-battle. And as hurriedly as he’d pass the phone back to Ignis, it wouldn’t be quick enough to avoid the lecture— _he really should go home._

Noctis has no intention of doing that. Maybe if he did, if he tucked his tail in-between his legs and crawled back to his father’s mansion with an apology worth the last several years, his father might even by him a phone. Or two. Or the entire game company itself. It’d certainly end his financial troubles. He’d just have to say the word, and all his college classes would be paid up in full. But an apology wouldn’t solve the problems they had in the first place, and Noctis has no desire to be another unloved piece of furniture in his father’s manor. The illustrious businessman—one of the most wealthy and high profile in all of Insomnia, if not Lucis—will have to continue spending his holidays alone.

And Noctis will have to continue bitterly wanting things he can’t afford. He spares another few seconds for the rounded chrome cell on the far left, then turns away from the window and continues down the mall’s packed corridor.

He doesn’t have any real plans, so just sort of wanders aimlessly, wondering vaguely if he should call up Gladio and ask for another sparring match just to vent out some frustrated energy. But then, Gladio’s probably busy with that DLC. Maybe he’s playing with Prompto. Maybe even Ignis has torn himself away from traitorously attending Noctis’ father long enough to box the other two behind their pixilated ears. 

Noctis turns another corner, simply following the flow of traffic, then putters to a stop before a coffee instillation in the center of the isle. The crowd parts around it, dipping in and out of the clothing shops on either side. The barista behind the counter is slumped against the register, doing a poor job of pretending not to ogle the only customer she’s got.

The man bent over her dessert display sets off alarm bells in Noctis’ head, but it takes him a second to place the image. Then it comes flooding in all at once. _Ardyn Izunia._ His father’s biggest rival. ‘Enemy’ might be a better term. Ardyn’s casually smirking face has appeared a few times in the magazines alongside the greying image of Noctis’ father, and Noctis distinctly remembers always thinking: _really? That guy?_

Even now, in the middle of a middle-class mall on a holiday Sunday, Ardyn’s dressed ridiculously. His pin-stripe business suit is overlaid with an enormous gothic-looking coat, a garish scarf around his neck and an old-fashioned hat atop his wild hair. His cherry-red locks look as disheveled as they always have, his chiseled jaw lined in unkempt stubble. Yet that’s probably not why the barista is staring. The longer Noctis looks at Ardyn, the more he feels hot under his collar. Somehow, even styled like a murdering beggar, Ardyn looks quite striking. Noctis would almost say attractive.

The closer Noctis comes, the more he thinks: _okay, definitely attractive._ Even though it’s in a weird, discomforting sort of way. Noctis still keeps on his path. There’s no sense wasting such a good opportunity to stick it to his father, and maybe even get a few perks along the way. He finally stops right next to Ardyn, but Ardyn seems to have eyes only for the line of creampuffs sectioned off by glass. 

Noctis has to clear his throat and ask, “Mr. Izunia, right?”

Ardyn pauses. When he straightens out, it’s with an oddly dramatic edge, a sort of subtle grace that isn’t lost on Noctis. Ardyn’s amber eyes flicker to Noctis’ face, then trail slowly down his body, and along the way, Ardyn’s expression seems to change from bored to curious. Noctis must be half his age. But Ardyn still answers simply, “Yes.”

Noctis offers his hand and tries, “Maybe you don’t remember me... Noctis Caelum.” Only a sliver of interest flares in Ardyn’s gaze, so Noctis namedrops, “ _Regis_ Caelum’s son.”

A small smile cracks at the side of Ardyn’s lips, but Noctis gets the distinct impression that he’s only told Ardyn something Ardyn’s already known. Ardyn nods indulgently. It keeps the ball in Noctis’ court. Noctis takes Ardyn in one more time, quick and determined, before he decides he’ll have to _go for it._

He takes a deliberate step closer, putting himself undeniably in Ardyn’s orbit. He lets his eyes linger along the broad line of Ardyn’s shoulder, making a show of appreciating Ardyn’s strong chest, and asks with the sort of honeyed voice that always makes Ignis bend over backwards for him, “So... what’re you up to this evening, _Mr._ Izunia?” 

Ardyn merely maintains his tolerant grin at Noctis’ obvious behaviour. “I was just about to order coffee.” He makes no invitation for Noctis to join him.

Noctis has always been stubborn, so he pushes, “Do you want some company with it?” 

Finally, Ardyn’s thin smile deepens. He turns away from the counter, and all at once, his interest seems to focus in on Noctis; his eyes _burn_. His voice is husky and alluring, inescapable, when he slickly suggests, “In that case... why don’t we go somewhere more _comfortable_ instead?”

Noctis challengingly quips, “If you’re paying.” 

Ardyn doesn’t reply. He just fixes Noctis with that _look_ that sucks Noctis right in, like some sort of dark, groping aura, and the next thing Noctis knows, Ardyn’s turning on the spot and strolling away. Noctis instantly follows. They make it all the way to the doors in silence, out into the early evening’s purpling sky. Noctis’ heart starts to beat a little quicker when he sees Ardyn turning for the parking lot—he knows it’s a stupid move to get into the car of a strange man twice his age.

But Ardyn walks past the underground entrance, crosses the street, and only stops outside of a copper-coloured bar with tinted windows. Noctis has never been inside, because the one time Gladio fetched them a drink list, the prices killed the mood.

Ardyn, obviously, has money to waste on throwaway meetings with younger men. He opens the door for Noctis like some sort of cliché gentleman, then guides Noctis right past the hostess stand in the front and to one of the booths at the very back. The dimmed lights are so low that the rest of the bar seems to fade out beyond the high backrests and mahogany pillars. The section Ardyn’s chosen is quiet and secluded. 

As they slide along the velvety seats, Noctis notes, “Nice place.”

Ardyn murmurs, “Befitting of my nice company,” and Noctis has to fight a blush. Which isn’t normal for him. Ardyn already strikes him as sleazy. But also oddly _powerful_ , in a deep, satisfying way that Noctis could get used to. He can see why his father would consider Ardyn a worthy threat, despite the unassuming appearance. 

No one comes to give them a menu. Noctis assumes this is either the sort of place where you order at the bar or the staff recognizes Ardyn and already knows his preference. Both seem equally as likely. Ardyn starts the conversation this time, settling back into the plush seats and drawling, “Yet, I’m afraid I must ask... what exactly is Regis Caelum’s beloved son doing engaging strange men and following them to bars?”

Noctis concedes, “Being rebellious.” Ardyn grins wryly with amusement, and Noctis hesitates, reevaluates, then comes to the same reckless conclusion he did before. He ventures, “Maybe it helps when those strange men are well off and on my father’s naughty list.”

Ardyn’s amusement lingers. For a moment, he says nothing, and Noctis takes the chance to slide a little closer. He lifts one hand across the table, subtly placing it over Ardyn’s. Ardyn’s gaze instantly flickers down, to where Noctis’ thumb lightly traces the pronounced lines of his long fingers. Noctis is hoping that their mutual dislike of his father won’t make it particularly hard to tempt Ardyn into an arrangement, but he doesn’t mind adding a bit of bait. Ardyn watches Noctis caress his knuckles for a little while. Then he glances up and all but softly coos, “Is that what you want, then? Money? To be _pampered_...?”

It’d be nice. Noctis could use a new phone. Could use some help with the bills. And could really use an intoxicating man like this on the other end of the phone whenever he has needs. He lays it all on the table, giving Ardyn’s hand a little squeeze and adding his lure to the line: “I’d offer a fair exchange.” 

Ardyn’s grin grows. He asks almost cheekily, “Oh, is _that_ what sort of work you’re in now?”

“It doesn’t have to be purely a business translation.” Maybe he’d thought that at first. But Ardyn’s hand is so _warm_ beneath his, and Noctis didn’t miss how big Ardyn’s shoes were on the way over. Besides the physicality, there’s something bizarrely enticing in the sly way that Ardyn looks at him, the rich cologne that Ardyn smells like and the entrancing way that Ardyn talks. Noctis runs his tongue along his bottom lip and murmurs, “Perhaps we could discuss some form of ‘ _relationship_ ’...”

Ardyn lands his other hand atop Noctis’. He squeezes so sharply that it almost hurts, and Noctis’ breath hitches, his gaze suddenly caught and held by Ardyn’s searing one. For a split second, Noctis wonders just what darkness he might be stepping into, but the longer Ardyn peers into him, the more Noctis wants to _swim in it._ He’s never even _consider_ getting a sugar daddy before, but Ardyn...

Ardyn shifts along the booth’s curved seat. He comes to press his entire body against Noctis’ side. He drapes one arm over Noctis’ shoulder, heavy and heated, his hand smoothing over Noctis’ chest as it lands. Noctis lets it happen, lets Ardyn touch him with a sudden swell of greedy intensity and stifling intimacy. Noctis’ pants are uncomfortably tight, his pulse thrumming loudly in his ears. Ardyn leans in so close that Noctis can almost feel the tickle of his stubble.

Ardyn purrs, “What a dirty boy you are, Noctis Caelum... but I wonder... are you dirty enough to prove your delightful little offer in a public setting?”

Noctis’ mind was made up several steps ago. He maneuvers forcefully out of Ardyn’s grip and slides out of the booth. Keeping coyly hold of Ardyn’s hand, Noctis tugs him towards the nearest washroom.


End file.
